


Tension

by orphan_account



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Alternate Ending for the Great Game, Gen, I cried writing this, I'm Sorry, I'm really really sorry, Major character death - Freeform, Not Happy, Not necessarily though, POV First Person, also could be read as johnlock if you squint, no, seriously huge tears
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-02-20
Updated: 2013-02-20
Packaged: 2017-11-29 21:46:56
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 587
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/691835
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Alternate ending for the Great Game. Moriarty figures out that Sherlock won't actually shoot the vest, and takes his own action.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Tension

**Author's Note:**

> Nothing BBC Sherlock is mine.  
> Not beta'd or brit-picked. Any mistakes are my own.

I can feel the tension. All three of us, waiting for something to happen. I would have pulled the trigger by now, blown the two of us sky-high... if it weren't for him.

He needs to live. And you know that. You've called my bluff. You would have been gone by now if you'd actually thought I would shoot. But I won't, and you know I won't, because he's here.

"This is growing very boring very quickly," you say, and nod to someone, somewhere over my head. "Shoot the doctor."

_No._

I move, trying to cover him with my body so the bullet will hit me instead, but before I can take a step there's the sound of a gunshot, deafening.

Impossible.

He's on the ground now, bleeding but alive. Still alive, so I can keep breathing for now. I look to you helplessly, begging with my eyes.

_Please._

But you just smirk and snap your fingers and walk out, and I'm left alone with him. I fall to my knees next to him. I reach for him, needing to touch him, needing to feel him breathing, needing to feel his heart beating beneath my hand, but he intercepts my hand halfway and curls his fingers around mine.

"Stay with me," he whispers, his voice ragged, and I have to fight to choke back a sob.

"Always." My voice sounds a lot more broken than I'd like.

"Sher..." he tries to say my name. "I'm... sorry."

"No," I say, tears rolling down my face now. I don't bother trying to conceal them. "No. Don't leave me. You can't... John. You can't leave me. You're my light, you're all that matters. You can't leave. I don't know what I'd do without you. You make my life worth living. Please. _Please,_ John."

I'm pleading now. Begging. I used to pretend I didn't care, about anything or anyone, and I even convinced myself of it, but he saw through that. There's no point in holding back now, when he's the only one who ever _saw me._

In my head I can hear you taunting me. "I'll burn the heart out of you," but how can you do that when my heart is lying on the ground right now, bleeding and taking his last breaths? How can you burn the heart out of me when you've already shot him dead?

He's gone now, gone forever, and I'm left here alone, sobbing, cradling his head in my arms and burying my face in that awful jumper that I used to hate so much, that's now soaked with his blood. 

I realise that my hand is still clutching his. Slowly, I loosen my grip, and his cold hand drops to the ground. It should make next to no noise, but somehow it echoes throughout the pool, reverberating through me until it's all I can hear, feel, see, the ache consuming me. Could I die from this much pain?

Death by loss of John. It sounds... _wrong,_ somehow. He was never meant to die. He was supposed to stay, to be okay, to be alive even after I'm gone. He was the one constant in my life, the one person who never left no matter what I did, what I said.

Now he's gone.

And it's your fault.

I'll kill you.

I'll do whatever it takes to find you, and I'll kill you slowly and painfully until you beg for mercy. For him. To avenge him.

I stand up.

I have work to do.


End file.
